


Assigned Living

by westandvigilant



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 08:18:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6649801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westandvigilant/pseuds/westandvigilant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>guess who ends up as assigned roomies?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assigned Living

**Author's Note:**

> undergreatwhite answered your question:  
> Eponine and Enjolras get assinged as roommates. They become bestfriends and he hates her boyfriends.
> 
> i wanted to go for something new this time, so have a feminine!jolras and a punk!éponine. i hope that you like it!

_Boy 1._

Enjolras watched her from the open doors of the balcony as she barreled through the front door, face obscured by oversized aviators and lugging an overstuffed duffle bag. 

“Éponine?” he asked, as she hopped gingerly over unopened boxes to join him on the balcony.

One side of her scarlet colored lips crooked upward in a snide way before she slid her sunglasses to the top of her head. "The one and only. You must be Enjolras?“ She took a deep breath of the fresh air, dimples stretching with her mouth. "Off-campus student housing. Sure is somethin’, huh?”

Her casually disheveled look matched the erratic tone and flaky nature of the few emails they had exchanged. Everything about her spelled trouble, from the ratty hair to the piercings to the boy with the tattoos that helped her lug a mattress into her room. A boy who spoke too sharply and walked too cagey. A boy that Enjolras decided quite quickly that he didn’t like.

—-

_Boy 2._

That boy didn’t stay around long. And neither did the next one.

Éponine knew, not so deep down, that she was probably annoying her new roommate with the very explicit reasons that her latest boyfriend was a piece of shit. But if he kept coming out to the balcony to watch her smoke even though he had never touched a cigarette, then she couldn’t feel too bad about being too rude to shut up.

But he listened quite well and he never ever sugar coated anything, which she admired. And every once and a while he’d smile with those lips. Lips too sensuous for a man’s mouth. But she always shook that thought away as quick as possible.

“You’d think he could have at least had the common decency to mention that he would be out until 4:30 in the morning with his dumb fratty friends.” She ranted before taking a deep drag off her menthol.

“Well,” Enjolras said in his usual even tone, “Last week I heard you tell him that you didn’t care what he did because he wasn’t your boyfriend.”

“Number one,” she began, pointing her cigarette at the tall man beside her, “eavesdropping is creepy. Number two, I only said that because I wanted him to ask me to be his girlfriend.”

He rolled his eyes and she felt a twinge of jealousy at how long his eyelashes were and how his irises were such a pure blue. Like a Disney Princess. “Number one, if you didn’t want me to hear it, you wouldn’t have said it with your door open. Number two, I’m not arguing that he isn’t a jerk-off, because he is, but that’s stupid and I shouldn’t have to tell you why-“

“But you will.”

“Obviously. Let me finish. You can’t just will people into knowing what you want. You’ve got to say something or the world is just going to keep turning the same way.” And then under his breath: “You are so infuriating sometimes.”

He was completely right. On all accounts. So she laughed and admitted that maybe she didn’t actually know what she wanted.

—-

_Boy 3._

Éponine was continuously telling him about how she had met the nicest boy at the student center and how he is so, so, so super different from everyone else she’s ever thought about dating and no they aren’t exactly dating but he’s always buying her coffee and picking up her books and she’s going to tell him how she feels soon, she promises.

So when she said that this mysterious Marius would be coming over to ‘study’ - which, yes, was illustrated with air-quotes and eyebrow waggles - Enjolras was excited to meet the guy. 

Or size him up. Really. Actually, maybe excited wasn’t the word. Annoyed? Maybe?

But she was so pretty that night, with a the natural flush across her wide cheekbones that only a crush can bring. He perfect little nose crinkling with giggles when he arrived at the door.

Unfortunately for Éponine, Enjolras already knew Marius as Pontmercy from a social rights group. Pontmercy, who was a good natured, if oblivious, fellow. Pontmercy, who was very publicly attempting to date some girl who was so perfect that he could never shut up about it.

When Enjolras broke the news to her, she didn’t try to ignore it and she didn’t cry. She just accepted it. It broke his heart, the way she turned her eyes to the ground and twisted her Monroe piercing like she always did before she said something thoughtful. Except she didn’t say anything at all. Instead, they sat on their balcony in silence, dangling their legs through the railings as they listened to the wind.

—-

_Boy 4._

Boy 4 was really Boy 1 a second time. He came back because he had turned his life around and he wanted them to get a new apartment together and adopt a dog and live happily ever after.

“I don’t know,” she mused with a sardonic smile, “maybe I should have told him straight up from the beginning how I wanted to take things slow.”

She made light, but didn’t like to think of the manic look in Enjolras’ eyes when she had come home in the middle of the night with a split lip. But she was stronger now, for some reason she couldn’t put a finger on, so she didn’t need to run back like she usually did.

“Nothing you could have done would have changed it. It would’ve happened eventually.”

She takes another drag and looks out into the night again.

“It’s not like I could ever live with a guy anyway.”

“You live with me.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like were friends.”

It was almost imperceptible, the way his gaze went far off. Instead of just looking at the other building, he began to look at nothing. His delicate jaw hardened and even though Éponine could barely see it, she could feel the way he grew cold in that instant.

“I mean,” she said, stumbling, reeling, reaching for anything and  managing only to drop her half finished cigarette to the concrete. “That’s why we make such good roomies. Good roommates are never friends.”

“Right.”

Éponine watched him as he ground out her cigarette with the toe of his shoe, cleaning up her mess. She shrunk as he looked right through her as if she were invisible. The door didn’t slam, but bounced off the deadbolt that he turned so she didn’t get locked out.

She wanted to light another cigarette, but her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. She wanted to laugh, but she couldn’t stop the tears from falling. 

—-

_Boy 5._

It was the little things he missed in the days to come. The way she looked in the morning before she put on her makeup. The way she begged him to make her tea when they were up past midnight. The way she would burn his grilled cheese when she offered to make dinner.

The worst part was that her absence was so palpable. How her scent still lingered on the couch even if she was hidden from his sight. The red lipstick stains on the coffee mugs. Sometimes he even thought he could feel her breathing through her closed door. She was still there, just not with him.

He was sitting on his bed, his only refuge, wishing he could go to sleep when she waltzed into his room fresh from the shower. Her pajamas clung to her damp skin, outlining the bold jut of her hip.

No knock. No pretense. Just nerves and bravado etched into the sharp angles of her face.

“You are my friend.”

A smile flickered across his lips. “I know.”

Then she continued to stand there and he became painfully aware that he was nearly naked with a girl in his room.

“Is there something else you want, Éponine?”

She didn’t say anything. She just climbed into his bed and pulled his face up to hers, kissing him harder than anyone had kissed him in years. It was exactly how he’d imagined it.

Enjolras returned the kiss, taking hold of her waist and crushing the space between them with his body. Finally, she pulled away, licking her lips and whispered: “I want you.”


End file.
